Valkyrie
by ElizabethPierce
Summary: Between running his club and watching his back in the world of mob politics, the one thing Eric can't allow is distraction. So why can't he keep his beautiful waitress out of his thoughts? And just what is she hiding? The truth can't always set you free.


_I couldn't decide if the sun slanting through my drapes was my enemy or my friend. I'd been laying in bed for hours trying to sleep to no avail. My options at this point were to admit defeat and go downstairs to make breakfast or to burrow deeper into my bed in the hopes of getting some rest._

_I was a stubborn ass who wouldn't admit defeat._

_This insomniac bit was getting more than a little old. I kept vampiric hours as it was, I really could not afford to be missing what little sleep I could get. My club, Valkyrie, forced me to be nocturnal, but these last few weeks were the only time in my life that I was legitimately having trouble sleeping. _

_I prided myself on my control. It seeped into every bit of my life: control over myself, control over my environment, control over others. There was nothing controlled about my inability to will myself into slumber. Infants could master this simple bodily function, yet sleep was being a fickle bitch with me. This was hardly my fault, though. Every time I closed my eyes, the mental images would force my lids open. No matter how much I wished it, I couldn't seem to control what my brain pictured and that was getting beyond irritating. This was a failing I could not suffer much longer._

_I let my eyes drift closed again only to be confronted with a flash of cerulean iris, a spiral of golden hair, a tantalizing slip of bronze flesh. I just couldn't fucking win. I, Eric Northman, had officially lost control._

6 Months Before

"Pam! It cannot be that hard to find a waitress that, at the very least, speaks English!"

I was fuming. My dear sister was about an inch away from having to replacing her entire Louboutin collection. I mean, really, how hard was it to find a decent waitress? One that would understand when I ordered? It was a fucking beer! If Yvetta couldn't manage to understand even the word beer, how in the hell was she supposed to be taking orders?

Yvetta was looking both confused and distraught as Pam waltzed back towards my booth. Pam took in the fury on my face and realized she needed to remove Yvetta from my presence immediately. As the ladies walked out of the club into the back hallway, I sent Pam a text saying that she was to fire Yvetta tonight. Pam was unfalteringly loyal to me, even if she gave me lip almost constantly.

While Pam executed my orders, I took in the people in my bar. Valkyrie attracted all sorts of patrons, everyone from a Billy Bob who lived in his airstream trailer out by the bayou to a Jean Paul who owned a multimillion-dollar investment firm in New Orleans. The club would be a people watcher's wet dream with the number of eccentric characters it drew, but I couldn't afford to be interested in anything beyond what these people were willing to spend in my establishment.

Pam interrupted my perusing by sliding in across from me with a beer in one hand and a vodka martini in the other.

"Did you fire her?" I asked as I grabbed the beer she handed me.

"Yes, but I still think you were undervaluing her," her eyes became decidedly more lascivious "She had so many talents…" Pam finished almost wistfully.

"Unfortunately, none of those talents are legally marketable." Not that I particularly cared for legalities, but I didn't need to give the cops any incentive to come sniffing around Valkyrie. "You'll need to start looking for waitresses tomorrow."

"Actually, I don't."

"Excuse me?"

"Yvetta was a horrible waitress, I only hired her so I could bed her. Once that was out of the way, I interviewed for her replacement. The only reason I haven't fired her before this was because I was enjoying your irritation with her."

I didn't know whether to be offended or impressed at her dedication to her amusement. "Is your life really so droll that you must invent these schemes for entertainment?"

She just smiled at me and pat me on the shoulder in the most condescending manner.

"Our new waitress is named Sookie Stackhouse and will be starting tomorrow night."

With that she turned on her heel and strut back to door duty. I went about my business as usual, unaware that that my carefully structured life was about to change.


End file.
